Disturbia
by Lady Silvamord
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that every action has an equal and opposite reaction - a concept that Itachi never fully understood, prior to this. ItaSaku, complete.
1. New Moon

_Disturbia_

_-_

_Existing on the obviously alternate universe pretext of the usual plot device – Sakura, captured by the Akatsuki, in order to heal Itachi's eyes. A series of interconnected drabbles regarding and expanding upon that line of thought._

-

To this day, Sakura is uncertain of exactly how they managed to take her by surprise – one moment, she is bent over Hyuuga Neji's unconscious form, intent on her careful healing of the wounds slashed across his chest, and the next, there is an awful, blinding, impact against the back of her head, and her vision goes black.

Before she loses complete consciousness, one of her hands drifts there, dazed, and registers the sticky-sweet texture and scent of blood. She is weak, all of a sudden, so very weak, and if it had not been for the suddenness and ferocity of the impact, she would have been able to mark the correlation between the distinctive feeling of emptiness and the massive, equally distinctive sword, which is pressed up against her neck.

Everything seems so very distant, and she hears a disgruntled voice from far away. "You have no finesse, moron…I'm fairly sure that wasn't necessary, yeah?"

The other voices blur into indistinct hums; she feels as if she almost recognizes them, but the blood is trickling down the back of her neck, now, and she is picked up and tossed into the arms of a stranger. Sakura hears the rustling of fabric, and the unmistakable sound of a boot hitting unprotected bone – "What's this we have here, eh?"

_Neji_, she realizes, with a vague sense of dread, and hatred at herself for being so immersed in caring for him that she didn't even notice these enemy-nin approaching—

"A Hyuuga," and for a moment, there is a painful memory of a long-lost teammate, and she isn't sure why.

There are subtle intakes of breath from all around her; naturally, Neji's reputation precedes him, and Sakura almost chokes on her fear.

"Kill him," a nearby voice rasps. "I remember that one. He's trouble."

"No."

That smooth voice again; so calm and dispassionate that it definitely could not have come from her. "Hyuuga Neji," it continues softly. "ANBU Captain. Wounded from numerous, but nonlethal, kunai stabs. The medic was efficient – they are almost completely healed over. He will regain consciousness fairly soon. If we dispose of him now, the backlash from the Hyuuga Clan will be immediate and violent. Every single shinobi from that village will be out hunting for our blood within two days."

Silence falls, in the wake of this statement, and Sakura nearly cries with gratitude at this psycho's apparent rationality.

"Very well, then," the raspy voice concedes. "Can we take this back to Headquarters, Itachi-san? She is bleeding all over my cloak…"

As she is on the verge of fainting, it takes a few moments for the name to register.

When it does, the shock is too much, and unconsciousness finally claims her.

**-**

She is chained to an armchair in the middle of what had once been a fine sitting room, but now lies abandoned and unused. Normally, the heavy iron manacles would have provided no obstacle at all, but in the past four days, Sakura has been in intimate and detestable acquaintance with Samehada, that cursed sword – and she is so sore, and so completely drained of all power, that it takes all of her effort to even lift the spoon that comes with her dinner every night.

"You're going to have to undo these if you have any hopes of my healing you," she says, with an air of forced coolness, to the man sitting in front of her, while wondering how long it would take for her fingers to close around his windpipe and force every square inch of air out of it, in her weakened state.

Uchiha Itachi raises his right eyebrow almost a fraction of an inch. For a few long moments, it looks as if he is just going to stare her down with those damned, swirling red eyes, but at last, he deigns to reply. "Doing so…would be foolish. I do not engage in foolish acts, kunoichi."

"Oh, really?" Sakura snaps, too irate to care that the individual she is currently antagonizing has ruthlessly killed other people for giving him considerably less provocation than this. "Your little _friends_ ensured that I barely have enough chakra and physical strength to eat my own food, let alone successfully extricate myself from these chains and ram them up your ass, you…you…"

Itachi regards her thoughtfully. "Interesting. Konoha's standards for shinobi, let alone ANBU, recruitment must have slipped considerably since my days there, if they are allowing such obviously suicidal and unstable shinobi to claim membership among their ranks."

"I suppose you're right," she snarls, fury choking her words, "if _suicidal_ means that I would rather die than heal an enemy of my country, then _hell yes, _I am! I've been telling you that for the past four days, so why don't you just get on with it?"

Silence greets her statement. "So be it," Itachi leans back, on the black leather sofa opposite to her. "In order to prevent your demise from being in vain, however, I would have to turn you over to Hidan." He closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again, to fix her with his unblinking stare. "He is an extremely skilled interrogator, despite his usage of rather unconventional methods."

The threat is implicit; her apprenticeship to the Godaime Hokage is well-known, and Sakura can't help but slump in her chair.

"Fine," she hisses. "But I'll still need you to undo these chains."

Itachi makes no move to stir himself from the sofa. "As I said earlier, that would be foolish of me. First, you will swear, upon your honor, that you will make no childish and ill-conceived attempt upon my life…or to escape, not that you would get very far."

Sakura bares her teeth at him. "How about a mature and highly comprehensive attempt upon your life?"

Itachi smirks, and the resemblance to Sasuke nearly drives the breath from her body. "You will have to restrain yourself if you have the will to live."

"I swear, upon my honor as a kunoichi of the Leaf, that I will not make any attempt upon your life, or to escape." Sakura closes her eyes, hating this situation more with each passing word.

He murmurs a quick jutsu under his breath, and the manacles enclosing her wrists spring loose. Despite herself, she nearly moans with relief, bringing her wrists up and rubbing them where the iron had cut into her skin, leaving angry red-and-purple bruises behind.

Itachi is still silent, watching, and waiting, and Sakura realizes, with a feeling of trepidation that she cannot seem to shake, that she must approach him in order to properly examine his eyes. Doing so is highly difficult; every instinct screams that she should be running as far as she can in the opposite direction.

It takes a good deal of her sizeable reserves of courage to sit beside him on the sofa, and she is careful to keep all thoughts of how satisfying it would be to strangle him to death at bay as she reaches toward his face slowly and cautiously, lest he see some reflection of those repressed feelings in her eyes and constitute it as enough threat to kill her right here.

To her surprise, Itachi nearly recoils from her touch; she has the distinct feeling that he is as uncomfortable as she is. In her heightened state of agitation, Sakura almost screams when she feels his long, cold fingers wrap around her wrist. "Is it…possible?" he asks, and in the oppressive, heavy silence, she can almost hear the weight of his hope, almost tangible between them.

The eyes are traumatized, to be sure, and there are all sorts of irregularities she can see within the exterior, and surely the interior as well, the exact nature of which will become clearer upon further observation. The idea of saying _no_ is a very tempting one indeed.

"Yes," she concedes, grudgingly, and she does not miss the light that touches the pair of eyes in question; turning them a clear vermilion instead of the sickly mix of crimson and black that they had been previously.

"Excellent," Itachi breathes, and Sakura almost shivers as she sees the slight expression of satisfaction on his face. "Excellent indeed."

**-**

The next evening, the kunoichi informs him that, within the space of five or six healings, she will be able to regain his visual abilities to what they had been when he was young. The thought both excites and sickens him; excites, because he has forgotten what it is like to be able to see properly, but memories of his childhood have always been too painful to bear.

When the kunoichi touches his face for the first time, Itachi inexplicably remembers his mother, and almost flinches away, while cursing himself for this uncharacteristic weakness.

Having her face two inches from his for hours at a time is also unsettling; it is not as if she is physically unappealing, he supposes, but her eyes unnerve him a great deal. They are too large and too open; as easy to read as a book left wide open on the table. She would be a terrible liar. Itachi is well aware that she finds him disturbing and rather frightening, which is predictable enough, but after a while, he comes to suspect that she may regard him as…medically fascinating, which is curious.

"There," she sighs, after their second session together. Her chakra is almost drained, and Sakura feels exhausted to the bone – Kisame continues to leech her chakra out every morning, much to her displeasure; only giving her the bare minimum needed for Itachi's healings. Honestly, she still reviles the concept of healing her enemy and putting him back at optimum fighting capacity, but it's a better option than being forced to expose state secrets. "How does that feel?"

Itachi blinks carefully; once, twice, again, feeling the changes in his vision. He does not enjoy admitting it, but the Godaime has trained her apprentice extraordinarily well. "…Satisfactory." He hesitates for a bare moment, standing up to leave. "You have my thanks, kunoichi."

He reflects that a look of openmouthed disbelief is unflattering on anyone, even this rather unusual medic. As if reading his mind, she pulls herself up straighter, regaining her composure, and gives him an almost civil nod. "You're welcome."

As he turns to leave, almost completely blending in with the shadows of the room, dressed as he is in a black turtleneck and matching, loose-fitting pants, Sakura calls out to him. "Oh! And, um, by the way, my name is Sakura."

It is a rather awkward declaration, and she is sure that he knows her name anyway, but she is rewarded by a tiny nod, before he leaves her alone to her troubled thoughts.

**-**

Sakura is confined in the room at all times, alone, save for the nights that Itachi joins her for his healings. On the eve of the last scheduled one, she paces the length of her prison over and over again, throwing desperate, speculative glances out the window.

**-**

It is the last session, and Itachi's blood nearly thrums with anticipation as he feels _Sakura's_ chakra lightly probing his eyes, correcting the very last frayed threads that need to be repaired. He cannot help but smirk at the thought that her every instinct as a Konoha shinobi must be to claw his eyes out with her bare hands, and yet, her fingers remain, so very gently, resting atop his eyelids.

**-**

"You will be returned to your village tomorrow night," he informs her evenly, even as she sees his newly-capable eyes jumping from detail to detail around the room; enjoying vision that he had been so sorely lacking prior to this.

Sakura thanks him, somewhat ironically, for his kindness; after Itachi leaves, she lies down on the bed, and her shoulders shake with sobs for the first time during the entire duration of her captivity, wracked with guilt, and remorse, and the feeling that after what she has done, she might as well take her kunai and swipe it across the emblem on her forehead protector; she's as good as a traitor now.

**-**

As sun sets the next day, Kisame blindfolds her tightly; she despises the sensation of being blind and helpless, but, as he says, with a slightly humorous grin, it's either this or being knocked unconscious, and she would really rather remain in full possession of her senses.

Sakura also resents being carried like a sack of potatoes, but to her horror, Kisame refuses to be the one to do the honors. "Bled all over my best cloak on the way here, you did," he informs her with an air of wounded pride. "_And_ you snore."

Before she can protest as violently as she would like to her slighted honor, Itachi, who had been watching the entire exchange impassively, walks over and lifts her easily into his arms. Sakura tries to restrain a screech of surprise, for the sake of her pride, but she can almost _feel_ him smirk at the discomfort he is causing her. Being alone with him for extended periods of time had been horrible for her nerves, as she is unused to associating with psychopathic mass murderers. However, being _carried_ by him while blinded is almost too much to bear.

Despite her wariness, however, Sakura falls into a light doze; it seems as if the journey is endless, and after two hours of being under Itachi's…care…and him not having dropped her to her death or broken her neck due to a random and inexplicable physical spasm, she relaxes a fractional amount. Were it not Itachi, she may even have enjoyed it a little – after all, she can easily feel the strength of the arms that support her so effortlessly, and her side _is_ pressed against his leanly muscled chest.

At this point, Sakura shoves all thoughts of Itachi and Kisame out of her mind and tries to think the most mundane thoughts she possibly can.

It is another few hours before they reach Konoha; when they approach the familiar borders of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, Sakura can barely contain her anticipation, and she feels Itachi's grip tighten on her. "You're not going to make it past the security posts," she informs the two Akatsuki members self-righteously.

Somewhere behind them, Kisame chuckles, and she is shocked to hear a tone of outright amusement in Itachi's reply. "We'll see about that, kunoichi."

When they next stop, it is outside her apartment, and Sakura makes a mental note to speak to Tsunade as soon as possible about more stringent border patrols, as both Kisame and Itachi smirk at her. She crosses her arms and glares at them. "This is not going to be an emotional farewell. You kidnapped me with hostile intentions, and I intend to inform the Godaime tomorrow morning. In addition, since you apparently know my location, you will give me your word to not return here with harmful intent." Sakura crosses her fingers behind her back, hoping fervently that the words sound as brave as she intends them to; it would be the stuff of nightmares, to come home from work late one night and find the two of them lurking inside her apartment.

Kisame bows to her slightly, and she raises an eyebrow; despite his run-ins with Konoha shinobi, the shark-man is hardly evil. "You have nothing to fear from us, Sakura-san. Well…not off the battlefield, at least. We will not violate your…" he gestures at the door to her apartment. "…humble abode."

"Good," she mutters grimly, before turning to Itachi. "How do they feel? This is going to be your last chance for any final corrections."

"They are fine." He looks away for a moment, surveying the landscape of the place he has not called home in ten years. "More than fine. Thank you…Sakura."

Contrary to popular belief – specifically, Kisame, who is choking with surprise in the background – his noble background has allowed him to offer such courtesies when they are appropriate, even though he finds them somewhat difficult. After all, if he meets this kunoichi in battle, all will be forgotten.

These words, identical to the ones his younger brother had uttered to her, six years before, leave Sakura speechless. It is likely that she may never see him again – Sasuke, or Itachi. She had tried not to dwell too much on the similarities between them while at the Akatsuki headquarters, but here, now, on a night so similar to the one which had occurred before…it is so easy to see Sasuke in Itachi – the eyes, the hair, the same proud features. Itachi is taller and leaner, with premature lines of strain on his face, but all the same, something in Sakura snaps.

Kisame nearly faints dead away when the little pink-haired kunoichi executes a perfect right cross, so quick he can barely catch it, to Itachi's jaw. "You're welcome," she says coolly, before beating an elegant, yet speedy, retreat into her apartment.

The punch had barely knocked Itachi off balance, but the look of surprise on his face is nearly priceless. Kisame does not think he has seen him in such a display of unguarded emotion since he had first met him, when he was a mere boy about ten years old. "Ah, Itachi-san," he manages. "Do you wish for us to lure her outside and subsequently kill her?"

Itachi's hand drifts to his chin, and rubs it absentmindedly. "That will not be necessary, Kisame," he says at last. "However, we will never speak of this again."

They are an hour outside of Konoha's borders when Kisame cannot help but laugh. "Definitely a one of a kind kunoichi, if you ask me."

The expression in Itachi's newly-restored eyes is unreadable. "Indeed."

**-**

Sakura makes her official report to the Godaime Hokage early the next morning, keeping a straight face and refusing to let any emotion seep through, despite the look of worry on Tsunade's face. At the end, when she admits to performing a complete restoration of Uchiha Itachi's vision, she sinks to her knees at the Hokage's feet, sobbing a thousand apologies.

**-**

In the months following Itachi's healing, the Akatsuki's efficiency quadruples, due to this alone. Shiranui Genma has a run-in with Itachi and Kisame, and just barely manages to return his team to Konoha safely.

"That Uchiha bastard," he growls, wincing as Sakura heals a Samehada-inflicted wound. "Trapped me in such a horrifying genjutsu, I honestly thought I was going to die…"

Sakura makes the appropriate commiserations, and keeps her gaze fixed on the flow of her chakra, so that nobody will see the guilt in her eyes.

**-**

When Tsunade learns of what she has done, she has no harsh words or reprimands to offer her apprentice; instead, she leaves her desk and envelops Sakura in an embrace, stroking her hair and murmuring gentle, yet futile, words of reassurance.

**-**

Itachi's weapons hit the target dead center all the way from the other end of the forest; frighteningly fast and accurate. Deidara leans back against the tree, watching, and thinks, with some small measure of regret, that the pretty little medic-nin from Konoha had no idea of the horror she had unleashed upon them all.

**-**

It is an irrational assumption to make, but Sakura just _knows_ she will see him again. She works on her fighting, on her technique and speed, on her power and accuracy, waiting for the opportunity to make him regret the day that the Akatsuki had decided that Itachi was in need of her services.

**-**

"There has been a change in plans," the Leader informs them. "We must take the Kyuubi now."

A slightly anticipatory smile touches his face; Itachi can almost feel the change in the winds.

**-**

Tsunade paces around her office, obviously agitated. "Intelligence has reason to suspect Naruto's in danger," she says abruptly. "Akatsuki's been making a move toward Konoha. We will step up border patrol and security immediately; Sakura, you're in charge of defending the western perimeter with Shino and Shikamaru. Understood?"

Sakura nods tightly; her fingers curling into a fist. _You won't find things so easy this time around, Itachi._

**-**

They hold the western perimeter secure for three weeks long; the nights get longer, and colder, and Sakura can almost sense them out there.

Two more weeks pass, and she begins to think that maybe they will not come, after all.

Sakura is patrolling the first third of the perimeter; Shikamaru and Shino are off on the second and third, respectively. It is quiet enough so that she can just barely sense the presence of another, before her hands are pinned at her back and there is a kunai at her throat.

"Remember me?" Itachi breathes.

Sakura twists away easily, evading the kunai, and just barely manages to punch him in the jaw, sending all the chakra that she possibly can into the hit. "Remember _this_?"

**-**

The fight is fast, and breathtaking in its intensity, and before too long, Sakura is bleeding from small cuts on her arms and hands, gasping for air. Itachi is missing such wounds, although he has bruises on his face and chest, underneath the cloak, from the strength of her blows. They stand at opposite ends of the clearing, circling each other warily.

"What's the matter?" Sakura taunts breathlessly. "Why aren't you using your precious genjutsu on me?" She sends a volley of shuriken his way. "Just like you did on my comrades?"

Itachi sidesteps the attack easily. "I am trying to be more sparing," he says tonelessly. "After all, I would hate for all of your careful work to be undone within a few months."

This statement has just the effect he hoped it would; Sakura stops dead, astonished, and he takes advantage of that fact to leap forward, pinning her mercilessly against a tree. She gasps at the force of impact, but his ninjutsu has already taken effect, weaving vines that bind her tightly to the bark. "You…you're _never_ going to get Naruto," she whispers, offering her throat to his kunai. It is pitch dark, but Itachi can see the light of defiance glinting in her eyes.

"Maybe that isn't what I want," he replies impassively.

With that, the vines release themselves from her body, and she pitches forward bonelessly, ready to throw a punch, but she is completely alone in the clearing, and the only sound is that of her uneven breathing.

**-**

At the end of her shift and making a report to Tsunade about her encounter with Itachi, Sakura returns to her apartment, desiring nothing but a scalding shower, and a good night's sleep.

The note on her bed is written in unfamiliar paper, with equally unfamiliar script – black ink, elegant writing not given to frivolous flourishes. Handwriting like Sasuke's, but narrower, and more mature.

_Do you regret it?_

She allows the letter to fall to the floor, as she stares through the open window with unseeing eyes.

**-**

She had been tired before, but all thoughts of sleep are forgotten as she speeds through the trees, heading back to the very place she had fought Uchiha Itachi not an hour earlier. Finding the clearing is not a difficult matter; she had felled trees in her rage.

Sakura finds the tree he had pinned her against, and with methodical certainty, she pins Itachi's letter to the bark, before pulling out her best kunai and slashing it diagonally, from one corner to the other.

The note she had written is in green gel pen – hardly professional, but it had been the only thing around. She attaches it below the mangled original letter with tape, and then leaves, knowing that they will be found by the person she intends it for.

_Stop playing your sick little mind games. _

_If you want to settle this once and for all, meet me right here one week from now; same time._

_Stay out of my apartment, and stay _away_ from Naruto._

**-**

Itachi touches the letter, and smiles, _really_ smiles, for the first time in years.

**-**

Sakura gets to the clearing early on that particular night, settling herself under a tree to meditate and ready herself for what is to come. Somewhere in her mind, she is fully aware that challenging _the_ Uchiha Itachi to a duel is tantamount to an outright death wish, but he infuriates her in so many ways that she cannot even name them. He had forced to heal his damned eyes – betraying the interests of her country in the process, and making her directly responsible for the pain of the comrades who had been unfortunate enough to encounter him afterwards. Beyond that, though, she knows what he and his organization intend for Naruto, and Sakura simply will not have it. He has been her best friend for six years, and, yes, she really would die to save him from the fate he will suffer if the Akatsuki succeed in capturing him.

Fleetingly, Sakura wonders if Itachi intends to kill her tonight. If so, tonight would be an awful day for death – despite the gravity of her thoughts, she can appreciate the beauty of the night. The clearing is illuminated by a full moon, which gives her excellent visibility, and a slight breeze stirs the leaves of the trees, which are the color of the darkest emeralds. It's as pretty as a picture, and she wonders, with a slightly morbid smile, if Itachi would be all right with her rescheduling this in favor for a night more conducive to violence.

Almost as if her thought summoned him, he flickers into being on the other side of the clearing; Sakura almost cannot see him, as he has abandoned his distinctive Akatsuki cloak in favor of a black turtleneck and matching judo pants, for better mobility. His hair is tied back, out of his eyes, similarly to hers, but loose locks fall out, framing his face. Itachi's eyes are nearly luminescent in this light, and she almost takes a step back; the effect is unsettling, and not for the first time, Sakura wishes that she were a little more physically intimidating.

Itachi nods, taking a step forward, into the moonlight. "I received your message."

"Needless to say," she retorts, shifting from foot to foot. Her mouth is suddenly dry, and Sakura realizes that she's never been in an encounter like this before; the closest thing would have to be the Chunin Exams, and this time, there is no Genma to stand between them and declare a beginning to the match.

She takes a deep breath, and settles into a fighting stance. "I'm ready."

Her heart is pounding so hard that she feels as if the ground beneath them is trembling with the force of it, and she is displeased to notice that he does not look bothered in the least. "As am I," he replies smoothly.

This attitude is something she is not used to in the least in an opponent, and Sakura hides her unease by lifting her lead foot up and stomping the floor. A giant boulder unearths itself from the ground, and she gives it a smooth scissor kick over to Itachi's direction.

He forms a few rapid hand signs, so fast that they blur into one, and an even larger wall of earth springs to life in front of him, so that the boulder merely bounces off and falls, harmlessly, to the ground, collapsing in a pile of dirt.

Sakura fairly snarls in frustration, and matches his hand signs with a few of her own. Itachi's defensive wall crashes down – to reveal nothing behind it.

She has enough time to curse in frustration, and that is enough for his hand to lock onto her shoulder from behind, so that when she spins to face him, her eyes meet the horribly familiar, swirling tomoe of the Sharingan, and she is locked into the grip of his genjutsu.

There is a blinding ache within her head, and it is almost as if she is forced to take each step forwards seeing everything in a cloak of crimson light, until she is standing in front of him, and suddenly, Sakura remembers her first try at the Chunin Exams, when Ino had attempted to use the Shitenshin on her, and Inner Sakura had overwhelmed Ino. Tonight, though, her inner self is nowhere to be found…and even if she were, Sakura thinks bitterly that she probably wouldn't be good for much, save drooling over Itachi.

Perhaps she will be forced to impale herself on Itachi's own kunai. He would probably appreciate the perverseness of it all.

Sakura sees herself come to a stop in front of him, and when Itachi puts the tip of the kunai to the base of her throat, the Tsukiyomi makes her feel the sharpness of the blade a hundred times more keenly, and despite her best efforts, she cannot move even a muscle. His still-swirling eyes inspect her intently, before pressing the point of the kunai a little closer, so that a bead of blood appears on the edge.

Sakura wishes with all her heart that he was dead.

Almost cautiously, Itachi lifts the hand that isn't menacing her, and gently, awkwardly, presses it to her cheek. His hands are icy cold, as they had been before, and she wants nothing more but to jump back, but the genjutsu is strong, and she is forced to stand, as still as a statue, as he drags the pad of his thumb against the soft skin underneath her right eye. Sakura notices his fingernails for the first time, painted purple, and irrationally, she thinks that it would be rather nice to laugh, even though she is trapped into this sick, frozen tableau.

There is nothing worse than this feeling, of being utterly imprisoned within her own body, and not even able to close her eyes and pray for the swiftness of her impending death. Because being _this close_ to Itachi certainly means death.

He moves his hand from her face to her hair, tangling in the soft roots, and Sakura winces at the feeling of his hands against her unprotected scalp. Despite this, his touch is almost gentle; maybe he just wants to lure her into a sense of relaxation before he bashes her brains out against the nearest tree.

Sakura is so lost while contemplating the horrors at this particular train of thought that it takes a few moments to register when Itachi moves his hand to rest lightly at the back of her neck, before leaning closer and pressing his lips, almost uncertainly, against her own.

There is absolutely nothing that Sakura can do about this, and it is almost worse than the feeling of being unable to defend herself from the thought of a rapidly approaching death, and is this even real, or is it just his playing more of those sick mind games?

The hand holding the kunai isn't, anymore, and she feels it slide down to her hip, where it seems to nearly freeze through her skirt; incongruously enough, for the rest of his body being as cold as ice, Itachi's mouth is warm.

His eyes slip shut, nearly involuntarily, and when they open, they are not swirling with the Sharingan, or even red, but as black as night, as they have not been in more than ten years, and, suddenly, as abruptly as if a vat of icy water had been poured over her head, Sakura is released from the genjutsu.

* * *

The next part will be posted within the next couple of weeks, hopefully.

Any and all feedback very much appreciated.


	2. Eclipse

_It's a bit of a frivolous request, but this whole story really works a lot better when listening to the song of the same name, by Rihanna. Give it a try, or not; whatever flies your spaceship. Either way, thank you for reading, and for the feedback. :)_

_-_

_Part two of three. _

-

Itachi pulls away quickly, as if burned - for a moment, he can think of nothing to say.

Sakura knows that this probably isn't the conventional response to what had just happened there, but she is enraged, and confused beyond belief, and her knee-jerk reaction to being either of those two emotions is to lash out, which is what she does now. She draws her fist back and punches him, hard, in the solar plexus; a hit that sends shinobi of the likes of Naruto and Kakashi-sensei to their knees.

Itachi, as usual, is completely unaffected by the attack, and he just watches her expressionlessly as she retreats to the other side of the clearing, as far away from him as possible.

"What the hell?" she rages, obviously beside herself, while readying all of her available weapons, just in case he attempts to approach her. "What…what was that?"

"I should think it would be obvious." Itachi closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are red with the Sharingan, and Sakura drops her gaze hastily, unwilling to be caught in another genjutsu. "Expressing my…interest…in a verbal fashion would not have been a viable option, as you would likely have dismissed them as the ravings of an unstable psychopath."

He takes a small step forward; her every instinct is to stand and fight, but fear – honest, actual fear, the likes of which she hasn't experienced in years – takes over, and Sakura backs away, only to find her back pressed against a large oak tree. "And trapping somebody into a genjutsu in order to force yourself upon them is so much more sane and rational?" she retorts heatedly.

Itachi can nearly smell her fright, and he tosses his kunai from one hand to the other, watching her eyes follow their path warily. "I believe so. And I hardly forced myself upon you."

Sakura can see him frowning slightly at the accusation, and finally, she explodes. "_Why_? You…you…I'm sure you could have anybody you want, as long as they don't actually know anything about you!"

The tip of the kunai lands, point down, on the tip of his finger; he balances it there for a moment, regarding the kunoichi thoughtfully, and choosing not to respond to the insult. "I desire…" he pauses, and his eyes flicker from black to red. "You. Every aspect of you. Your companionship. You are unique."

Itachi offers no more explanation than that, perhaps suffering under the misguided notion that she should be honored to be chosen by _the _Uchiha Itachi, regardless of the specifics, and Sakura takes a few moments to absorb everything. "Are you – asking me out, or something?" she asks, dumbfounded.

Itachi winces almost imperceptibly, both at the juvenile term, and at the look of unmitigated horror on her face. "That, kunoichi, would imply that you have a choice in the matter."

"_What_?" she screeches, and he notices several birds flutter up from their nests in alarm. Fear replaced by indignation, she advances upon him in a manner that he supposes is intended to be threatening. "Of course I have a choice in the matter! I don't date S-ranked criminals who are wanted in five countries! And you've tried to _kill_ me before!"

It is hardly conducive to his persuasion, but Itachi arches an eyebrow at her. "Do not flatter yourself, Sakura. If I had honestly been attempting to kill you prior to this, then we would not be engaging in the conversation, as you would be long dead."

At this, Sakura stops dead in her tracks, her complexion slowly losing color, until she is deathly pale. Normally, an insult to her pride of that caliber would have earned the opponent a fight to the death, but at this point, she is so thoroughly sick of Uchiha Itachi's face – _which is far too handsome for a self-respecting psychopath, anyway,_ Inner Sakura pipes up – that the last thing she wants to do is fight him again, just so he can entertain himself by going easy on her.

"Get out," she informs him flatly, "of my village. Now."

Sakura half expects him to put up an argument, but the wind gusts again, suddenly cold, and Itachi is gone.

**-**

She walks all the way back to her apartment; despite her impeccable chakra control, the past hour has been so emotionally trying that she shouldn't take any unnecessary risks. Sakura can almost feel him watching her, but at this point she is unsure whether it's her imagination or not.

Her apartment is warm and it – well, it _feels_ blissfully alone, and she can only pray that it actually is, but she is so tired that she just sinks onto her bed and wraps herself in the comfort of the blankets and cannot bring herself to search through it for any unwelcome visitors.

Purposely, she leaves the lights on, and leaves the security of her bed to check the locks on the window. Her throat has closed over like it wants to cry, but her eyes are completely dry and bloodshot.

Sakura longs for sleep, but when it comes, it is not a mercy. The moment her eyes close, she slips back into the genjutsu, and it replays, over and over and _over_ within her head, and all she can feel is him; his lips, surprisingly uncertain against hers, one of his hands, threading through her hair and coming to rest on her neck, so that he can feel her pulse speed up. In sleep, she realizes that he could have pressed a little bit tighter and driven the breath from her body – an easy, painless way to die – and she would never have been aware of it. His other hand slides down to her hip, holding her in place, even though she can go nowhere—

She relives those few, agonizing, minutes on a continuous loop for eight long hours, until her alarm goes off, shattering her out of the torturous dream. Sakura feels dehydrated, and her head threatens to split itself apart.

Her bedroom is quite a bit cooler than usual, she thinks, dazed, as she drags herself out of bed, and when she notices the open window, Sakura falls back onto the pillows, hating everything; despite her best attempts to restrain them, a few tears manage to squeeze themselves from under her tightly shut eyelids.

**-**

She can barely function at work that day, and when she returns home, she cannot bring herself to go to her bedroom; instead, she collapses at the kitchen table with her back to the window, burying her head in her hands and taking deep, steadying breaths.

Near-legendary kunoichi she may be, Itachi supposes, but tonight, she looks like nothing more than a tired child. The prickling of remorse is miniscule, and so unfamiliar he can barely recognize it, but nevertheless, he decides that he will allow her to spend her nights in peace.

**-**

"Nightshade," Tsunade says, pausing in her intent inspection of the cabinet full of medical herbs and supplies. She glances up at Sakura. "A key ingredient in?"

"Antidotes for poisons targeting the internal organs," Sakura replies dutifully.

Tsunade gives her an approving look. "And a key ingredient that we happen to be missing." The Godaime walks back to her chair and sinks into it with a sigh, and for a moment, Sakura is reminded that, despite the physical illusion, she is in her mid-fifties, after all. "It only blooms at night during the full moon. You're the only one I trust enough to harvest it." She takes a long, measuring look at the dark circles under her apprentice's eyes. "If you're not up to it, though, we could probably hold on for another month and just use dittany as a substitute."

Sakura bows to her. "There's no need, Tsunade-shisou. I'll have a hundred blossoms for you by tomorrow morning."

Tsunade smiles, before turning back to her paperwork. "Thank you, Sakura."

-

As recently as a few months ago, she wouldn't have thought twice about being out, alone, at midnight. She has faced infinitely worse dangers and lived to tell the tale. Then again, a few months ago, she had barely known anything about Uchiha Itachi, save for the sordid story of his past – let alone having experienced the dubious honor of his determination in pursuit of her.

The thought alone makes her frown, and Sakura continues her way to her apartment; if she is going to run into him while in the forest, she would rather have a great deal more armaments on her person than she does right now.

She has never entered her own apartment with as much wariness as she does now; thus far, Itachi has shown no respect for her personal space and boundaries, and she cannot shake the idea that one day, she might possibly walk into her bedroom to find him casually perusing her reading material. Or, at the end of a long day at work, she fears that there is a real risk of her sliding the frosted glass door to her shower open, only to find him already occupying the limited space – and the limited hot water – while using up her precious reserves of jasmine oil body wash and shampoo—

Sakura nearly stops dead at this particular mental image, a blush slowly working over her features. A good deal of highly unwelcome, if not _unpleasant_, thoughts assail her, and the kunoichi takes a deep breath and begins to chastise herself at length, while fumbling with the lock on her door and stumbling inside, her eyes raking the interior of her apartment.

Everything seems to be as she left it. Maybe it had been paranoia, but she had turned all the lights on before leaving for work, so there are no menacing shadows that a certain S-ranked missing-nin could emerge out of.

When she sees them, she wonders how she could have missed them the first time around. One hundred nightshade blossoms, neatly gathered, and deposited on her kitchen table are hardly inconspicuous. Sakura flattens herself against the door, pulling out her shuriken out of instinct. One sniff tells her that they haven't been here for long; the overwhelmingly sweet scent has just begun to diffuse around her apartment.

Throwing caution to the wind, she approaches somewhat timidly. Almost absentmindedly, she reaches out to finger one of the velvety-soft ivory petals, and the touch tells her that the blossoms are genuine; he had picked only the healthiest specimens, ripe for being ground into the antidote. _Impressive,_ she thinks, and for the first time, she wonders if his extensive intellect has given him some knowledge of medical chakra. Sakura notices that the nightshade is bound with a thick, silken black ribbon tied about the stem. She unravels it, winding it through her fingers. The texture is rich, and she is surprised to notice the small Uchiha fan embroidered at the very end.

Itachi may be long gone by now, and if he isn't – and she has the tiniest sneaking suspicion that he isn't – then this really isn't especially wise at all, but Sakura takes the bouquet in her arms again; she only lingers by the window for a few moments, knowing that that will be enough for him.

-

Itachi returns to their campsite rather late at night, mysteriously fragrant with the scent of nightshade. Kisame nods a simple greeting, and continues to prepare the fish – if he didn't know better, he would say that his partner may possibly be totally smitten with this Sakura kunoichi.

Except, Kisame realizes with some measure of horror, that he _doesn't_ necessarily know better.

Damn.

"Kisame?" Itachi queries at last, giving him a dubious look. "You are burning the fish."

-

Three days later, Tsunade offers Sakura an A-ranked solo assassination mission, of a certain A-ranked missing-nin who could be compromising their interests, one that should take no more than a week. Sakura jumps on the offer; she has slept peacefully for the past few days, and maybe some time away from Konoha may be what she needs to drive the memory of Itachi and the clearing away from her mind, and Itachi's gift of the nightshade, and the persistent – well, not _fear_, but nevertheless, the idea of encountering Itachi in her shower one night – away. Actually, Sakura would be more than content if a mission of this nature would succeed in making all thoughts of Itachi whatsoever a very distant memory.

That was then, though, and this is now, and Sakura silently curses her bad luck for having an unusually wily target. The missing-nin has been away from Konoha for a year, and his skills are still sharp – a formidable match, to be sure.

She has finally pinned him down to the ground, both hands locked around his throat, and he is fading fast; just as she feels his last breath escape him, there is a snarl from somewhere behind her. Sakura releases him and spins around to face a huge, katana-wielding enemy-nin; the forehead protector bearing the slashed emblem of the Sand. Her eyes widen – Tsunade-shishou had failed to mention a partner…

**-**

The katana slashes her left forearm, and Sakura hisses with pain, before unleashing a rain of senbon at the missing-nin. Most of them make their mark, but he hardly flinches; unsurprising, for a man who can fight so efficiently, even after she had broken his left arm.

She ducks behind a tree, careful to keep her eye on him; it is dark, and she'll be damned if she lets him slip away and corner her. The hand signs she makes are for a new technique Tsunade had taught her not too long ago; intended to immobilize every muscle in the body before slowing the heart to a stop.

The enemy cannot seem to find her; he circles the area a few times, gasping with exertion, before, surely enough, the katana drops from his nerveless grasp.

Satisfied, Sakura emerges from the cover – she has never seen this particular jutsu in action before, as Tsunade had demonstrated it on an already-dying fish.

Then the man bends over and picks up the katana.

Sakura takes a step back, her hand going to her wounded arm – her chakra reserves are too low to fully heal it. _That_ reaction from the subject had definitely not been in the equation.

His eyes, a dull shade of brown, darken completely to black, as he turns the massive sword inwards, toward himself. His movements are sharp and erratic, almost as if he is being controlled by a puppet string—

Sakura turns away at the last moment, as she hears the sickening sound of metal stabbing through unprotected flesh and organs. Fighting the urge to vomit, she pulls herself up straighter, looking into the depths of the forest angrily, while keeping one hand still pressed to her other arm in an attempt to quell the flow of blood. "I _had_ it under control!"

Itachi emerges from the shadows slowly, his eyes flickering from her to the two dead shinobi on the floor, and stopping, briefly, on the black ribbon tied around the top of her right glove. "No words of thanks? How impolite…Sakura."

"If you had given it a few more moments, he would have lost control of all of his muscles and his heart would have stopped itself," she retorts. "A lot less…messy." Sakura blinks, her hand gravitating to her kunai. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Perhaps she is imagining it, but maybe Itachi's voice has a slightly humorous tone to it. "I was just in the area." With that, he withdraws a roll of bandages from the inner reaches of his Akatsuki cloak.

Sakura regards the rather inoffensive-looking bandages as if they were a stack of Jiraiya's most distasteful literary offerings. "I…don't…need those?"

Itachi directs a significant glance at her wounded upper arm. "Do not insult my intelligence, Sakura."

He approaches her, and Sakura tries her best to stifle the memories of what had occurred the _last_ time they were alone in a forest at nighttime.

Itachi notices that she is shaking slightly; from a combination of stress, chakra depletion, and…fear. He frowns at the last, and places a hand on the shoulder of the arm that had been injured. He feels her muscles tighten, and she pulls away, staring up at him defiantly. "Give me one reason not to do to you what I did to him," she says, gesturing toward the first dead missing-nin. "What the hell did you mean by…that first night? Breaking into my apartment?"

"I wanted to make sure you would not forget," he says simply.

"What makes you think that I would forget something like that?" Too late, Sakura realizes the implications of her statement, and a blush slowly spreads its way across her face.

Itachi chooses not to reply, instead, taking hold of the injured arm again and removing a length of bandaging from the roll. Sakura watches him, her eyes glittering warily in the dark. Her clothes are the same as they had been in her chunin days, for the sake of practicality and simplicity, but right now, she feels far too…exposed…with him this close to her. She fights a shiver as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the inside of her arm as he draws the bandage up, before wrapping it several times around the gash and tying it securely. His efficiency is surprising, but then she realizes that Akatsuki does not have a medic, really, so all of them must be trained in rudimentary forms of treating their own injuries, as well as those of their partners.

He draws back, trailing his cool fingers down the length of her arm as he goes, so that they brush and linger at the inside of her palm. "How does that feel?"

Sakura crosses her arms over her chest, purposefully mirroring his words during her healing of his eyes. "Satisfactory. You have my thanks…_Itachi._"

She does not miss the way his eyes darken, from clear crimson to an almost maroon color.

There is no point in asking him to explain his – attraction – to her, she supposes, as they travel back in the direction of Konoha. And if he's anything like his younger brother – she swallows at the memories – then Itachi will be nothing if not…well, _persistent_, would be a polite way to put it, but she privately thinks of the single-minded determination of Uchiha men to fall more under the category of _fixation._ After all, if she hadn't known better, she would actually assume that Itachi may actually care about her well-being.

Sakura narrowly avoids stepping into the midst of a bird's nest.

Itachi gives her a mildly inquisitive look.

Except that she _doesn't_ necessarily know better.

Damn.

**-**

She tries to convince Itachi that he can leave her at the walls separating Konoha from the surrounding Fire Country, but he doesn't quite listen. Then she tries threatening Itachi into leaving her at the walls. He just raises an eyebrow at her in a way that implies that she _should_ know better by now.

Sakura storms off in a huff at this point. Itachi follows her discreetly, and before too long, they stand outside her apartment a little awkwardly.

"I would tell you goodbye," she sighs at last, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "Except it wouldn't be, would it?"

Itachi's only reply is to take a slow step forward, bridging most of the distance between them; normally, the _flight_ aspect of Sakura's _fight or flight_ instinct would have kicked in by now, but some intuition tells her that, whatever he has in mind, it won't be laced with harmful intent.

So Sakura stays where she is, even as Itachi leans forward, gripping her elbows lightly as he bends down to press his lips to hers. He does not give her time to retreat, but the touch is so light she could mistake it for being another genjutsu, except for the fact that his eyes have slipped shut. Her hands make their way to the base of the collar of his cloak and grip the fine material – partly to stay on her feet. Sakura is well aware of his strength, but his hands on her arms are as gentle as the kiss. _So uncharacteristic,_ she thinks, almost swaying on her feet.

Almost too soon, he withdraws. Sakura restrains the urge to gape at him and look as shocked as she feels – at the restrained emotion within the kiss, as well as the fact that she currently has no urge to cause him physical harm, as she had done last time he had…reacted to her in this manner. She is suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that she is blushing nearly as hard as if it had been her first kiss, and Itachi gets a curious look on his face, as if he is trying to murder a smile before it gets out.

"Um," she says, her voice seeming too high pitched to be normal, as she struggles with the lock and opens the door, before nearly falling inside. "Just so you know, there's no danger of me forgetting that one either, so breaking in tonight will be completely unnecessary."

Itachi nods at her, and this time, she cannot mistake the amusement in his voice. "I was not intending on it, Sakura. Good night."

**-**

True to her words, Sakura does not need a genjutsu for their encounter to replay itself in her dreams, over and over again, until sunrise.

-

Neither does Itachi. Although Kisame notices the somewhat distant – but definitely not displeased, actually, quite the opposite – expression on his partner's face following that rather long absence, he wisely chooses not to comment on it.

-

The next morning, Sakura has to fight the temptation to stay in bed all day and hide from the world, and chalk up all of last night to be a crazy dream – because there is no way, no way, _no freakin' way_ in hell that she and Itachi kissed last night and that she had maybe kind of sort of enjoyed it at all.

The entirety of her morning shower, she recites every negative quality – and why he would be completely unfit to engage in a relationship with, even if she _were _considering it, which she isn't – she knows about him, which is a considerable list indeed. Traitor to Konoha, which is reason enough in itself. Psychopath. Not entirely sane. Murdered his own family. Was the individual responsible for Sasuke leaving Konoha in order to seek inhuman power. Is hunting Naruto with the intention of killing him.

Sakura throws herself into the pressing demands of work in the weeks that follow. It isn't as if she's hiding from Itachi, merely…recovering from the effect he has on her. And conserving her strength for what is to follow.

**-**

Sometimes she wonders _why._ Of all the people in the world _unfortunate _enough, she strongly reminds herself, to become the target of Uchiha Itachi's affections, why her? But it's a question that only Itachi can answer, and it doesn't look like he's going to be talking anytime soon.

For some strange reason, he enjoys her company. Her conversation. Everything about her. She considers the idea that maybe it is just some kind of twisted challenge to himself; after all, Uchiha Itachi always got what he wanted, and so far, she has hardly been compliant to his socially awkward methods of courtship. But at the same time, it seems far too complicated for that. What had he said, that first time? He desired _her._ Her companionship, and Sakura realizes, as she cuts down an enemy-nin almost absentmindedly, that he has led an extraordinarily lonely life.

Something about her fascinates him, draws him to her like a firefly to a covered lamp, for some inexplicable reason. Then again, Itachi had never been completely sane, she reasons with herself, so maybe that explains it.

**-**

Sakura posts another letter on the tree in that fateful clearing, and that night, when she arrives there, Itachi is already waiting. He inclines his head to her in greeting, but she ignores him, and plunges ahead.

"I can't do this."

Maybe she is getting better at reading the subtleties of his expressions, but he definitely looks startled at her sudden outburst. "Pardon?"

Sakura paces back and forth, obviously agitated. "Your organization is trying to hunt down and kill my best friend," she says, meeting his gaze squarely. "I will never let that happen…he's Konoha's future; our next Hokage. I would die to save him." She hesitates, reluctant to broach the subject, and when she does, her voice is a good deal quieter. "You were responsible for Sasuke being – the way he was. You…you killed your entire family."

There is a long silence between them, before Itachi turns away, fixing his eyes on the faraway moon, as he silently battles with the reality of the information he has to divulge. "The village elders," he says at last, his voice sounding oddly distant, "were afraid of an Uchiha rebellion. Things were headed that way."

He says nothing more, leaving Sakura to piece things together for herself. She stares at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments, but when she does, her hand goes to her mouth, and Itachi thinks that he has never seen her look so horrified. "No," she whispers.

"Like any good Konoha shinobi…" the breath leaves his body in a harsh sigh. "I followed orders. I wasn't supposed to spare Sasuke, but I…was weak."

Despite her physical revulsion at what he was ordered to do, Sakura reaches out to him, tentatively placing her hand on his shoulder. He tenses under her touch, but does not shrug off the physical contact, and she lingers there, unsure of what to say. Not for the first time, she notices the premature lines on his face.

"I would prefer not to speak of this again," he says abruptly.

Sakura nods, withdrawing her hand respectfully. When she speaks again, it is in an unusually timid voice. "…Naruto?"

Itachi looks at her again. He should not say anything, he knows, but the worry knitting her brow isn't for herself, but one of the people she holds most dear. Normally this would mean nothing to him, but when it comes to this kunoichi; his life has ceased to be normal. "I can make no promises," he allows. "…But I will try my best."

A little bit awkwardly, he reaches forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gentle contact is difficult, for somebody of his nature, and she looks up at him sharply. "Sakura," he says, and despite his best efforts, his voice is a little rougher than normal. "I am not sure what it means to you, but I do not regard this – as a matter of light consequence. And you…you have nothing to fear from me."

**-**

It is a million different kinds of wrong, and she may or may not hate herself for it the next morning, but Sakura takes a few small steps forward, before tentatively wrapping her arms around him. Her head only comes up to a little under his chin, and she rests her head into the hollow of his throat. Itachi seems surprised and a little unsure of how to respond at first, before he reciprocates, drawing her within the warmth of his arms and cloak.

The wind howls through the trees, and he inclines his head a little, so that his lips brush the top of her head; Itachi smiles, against her hair, and the Sharingan slowly fades from his eyes, leaving them as black as ink.

* * *

The next and final part will be coming within the next couple of weeks.

I really hope that I'm handling the ItaSaku romantic aspect right, so if everybody who reads this can drop me a line saying whether they liked it or not, or just any comments in general, that would definitely make my day. :)


	3. Breaking Dawn

_Maybe I'm just on a music kick, but if you're so inclined? Go to YouTube, type in "Decode", by Paramore, and you will find the _perfect_ ItaSaku theme song. Honestly. Incidentally, that particular song fits in great with the last chapter, as well as this one. :) Another track that just fits is "Put On," by Young Jeezy and Kanye West. Not my usual listening material, but it's a really dramatic song, and this is a really dramatic chapter. Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading and for the feedback!_

-

_Part three of three._

-

Lives and fate and honor hinge upon this secret; luckily, Sakura's always been good at keeping secrets, and the select few individuals Itachi tells are too fond of teasing him relentlessly to ever let the information fall into less-than-discreet hands.

-

Nights are the only time Sakura has to herself, and once, she asks Itachi how he manages to spend them with her. "Don't you have important business to attend to – not that I'm complaining," she adds hastily, as he raises an eyebrow at her. "But isn't the Akatsuki far too nefarious to engage in their customary activities during the daylight?"

Itachi clears his throat in a somewhat awkward manner. "Kisame…approves of you. Wholeheartedly. Therefore, he is willing to make certain – allowances."

Sakura gives him an amused look. "I'm honored."

-

Her duties as a Konoha shinobi consume her waking hours, but after night falls, she has nine hours of borrowed time. The time they spend together always goes too soon; when the first rays of sunlight touch the horizon, Itachi kisses her goodbye, and disappears. Sakura sleeps for three hours, before rising and preparing for work – she fears that it is not a lifestyle conducive to optimum performance as a shinobi, but if she were completely honest with herself, she would admit that she wouldn't have it any other way.

-

Itachi has never admitted to happiness, but he is starting to acknowledge that this may be the closest that he has ever come to it in his entire life. Perhaps it is just the nuances of the attitude he has developed over the past sixteen years of living as a renegade, but he cannot shake the feeling that this will not last long; that it is just the exquisite calm preceding a particularly violent storm.

If this is so, this is the longest calm he has experienced; long enough for the Akatsuki to shift focus to the eight-tailed beast, in distant Kumokagure. A few diplomatic words to the Leader were all it took – a risk that he would never have been willing to undergo, prior to this, but the look in Sakura's eyes when he had told her that her closest friend would have another year or two of safety, at least, had been entirely worth it.

The interlude is long enough for Sakura's hair to grow out properly, until it reaches halfway down her back. Itachi tells her that it is impractical, in his typically impassive tone, but his expression says otherwise, and Sakura smirks to herself and refrains from cutting it.

Itachi has almost become accustomed to it, this strange state of peace that he has found, until one fateful evening in early autumn; almost one year after their…relationship…had formed. He and Kisame are on the border between the Land of Wind and the Land of Fire, when Sakura emerges, in a tempestuous whirl of cherry blossoms, and flings herself into Itachi's arms with a squeal of joy. "I'm in!" Before he has much time to do more than blink, Sakura has planted a kiss on his jaw and landed back on the ground, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy. "Well, not _in, _officially, but Tsunade-shishou submitted my name for official consideration this afternoon…"

She continues to chatter; excited, in a way that Itachi has rarely seen her before, but then, he supposes, this must be something extraordinary, because she has never sought him out without the protection granted by the night sky. Kisame looks far too amused for his own good, and mutters something about needing to be somewhere else, before vanishing, as if on the breeze, leaving Itachi to take Sakura by the elbows and press a light kiss to her forehead. "ANBU, or Special Jounin?"

He hopes for the latter, but expects the former, and is not surprised in the least when that is the one she indicates. Almost as suddenly as her appearance, she sobers, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers. "You're…familiar with the nature of the entrance exams."

A shadow passes over Itachi's eyes as he nods, and, not for the first time, Sakura tries to comprehend the depth of his genius; he had undergone those trials as a mere _child_, and had not only passed, but excelled, setting unspoken standards for shinobi of her year. "Then," she presses on, looking up at him intently, "you know that this is something that I need to do – on my own."

When he replies, his voice is tighter and more strained than it had been previously. "You cannot begin to understand what it will be like."

Some small part of her reflects, with unease, that if it had that large of an impact on _him_; this test runs a great risk of tearing her to shreds. Shoving that annoying little voice aside, Sakura pulls herself up to her full height, her jaw achieving that stubborn tilt to it that he finds both infuriating and endearing. "I know it's going to be difficult. But I can do it."

Itachi _should_ agree with her – he knows what a formidable opponent she is – but the ANBU entrance exams are nothing like anything she has ever experienced before. Even to him, it had been an excruciatingly difficult and painful trial; years after passing, his memories of those nights had still manifested in nightmares. His fingers tighten around hers. "When?" he asks abruptly.

Sakura cannot help but wince, and when he notices, it takes a conscious effort to loosen his grip. "The written exams are on November twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, and the practicals start on the twenty-sixth and go on until the twenty-ninth. Three days and nights." Involuntarily, she remembers the Forest of Death from the chunin exams; Neji, the first of her friends who had taken the ANBU exams, had grimly stated that the practical aspect of the test had made the Forest of Death sound like a walk in the park.

Itachi's eyes narrow in concentration. "That gives us approximately one and a half months to prepare." He glances at Sakura. "If I am allowed to help you prepare, of course."

The tone of his voice implies that, despite his polite wording, this will not be an option, and Sakura laughs a little, despite the slowly increasing magnitude of her nerves. "Yes. As long as you give me your word to be somewhere far, far away from Nara Forest on November twenty-sixth."

It is a difficult term for him to promise to, but at last, Itachi nods grudgingly. "Very well." A breeze stirs the sand dunes around them, and Sakura inclines her head to the sky; the last rays of sparse sunlight touch her features, and for a moment, he is nearly lost for words. Finally, he finds it within himself to step forward and, gently, press his palm to her face, stroking the delicate line of her cheekbone with his thumb – much as he had done during that fateful first encounter in the clearing, so long ago.

He should tell her that he is proud of her; that this everything she deserves, for being a truly exceptional, almost-legendary kunoichi and medic, and that this is the next logical step forward in what is already a shining career, but his bitterness for the village that had once been his, and the one that she still calls home, is too thoroughly ingrained to allow him to express these sentiments. Sakura offers him a small smile, at once regretful and accepting, before standing on the tips of her toes and giving him a lingering kiss that he finds too bittersweet for comfort.

Her hands are small and light on his chest, but Itachi knows the power within them, and he wraps his arms around her tightly, so that for a few moments, she is completely swathed in his Akatsuki cloak. Irrationally, he thinks the black and dark, subtle maroon are becoming on her, so very becoming, but when Sakura finally slips out his hold, she is all Fire again – the silvery steel of her forehead protector, and the blazing red of her sleeveless shirt. Despite himself, he bends down and kisses her again; she is surprised, but reciprocates wholeheartedly.

When Itachi finally pulls away, his voice is a little rawer than it had been previously. "Go home," he says softly. "Sleep. Tomorrow night, meet me in the clearing, and we will begin to prepare."

Sakura hesitates momentarily. "When I was in Tsunade-shisou's office, earlier, one of the village elders was in there as well. He and the other elders think that tracking down Akatsuki should be made a higher priority, even though they're currently not focusing any attention on Naruto…so, maybe it would be safer for us to meet outside the village walls."

This information has the potential to be rather worrisome, and Itachi files it away in his mind for future reference. "Very well."

He takes her hand, brushing her knuckles with a light kiss; despite the gloves, the touch sends shivers down Sakura's spine. "Until tomorrow," Itachi says softly, and as she forms her few hand signs and disappears, his troubled eyes are the last thing to fade from her vision.

-

When Kisame returns, all Itachi has to tell him, in his customary monotone, is that Sakura is slated to take the ANBU entrance exams this November. It is only by virtue of his knowing the Uchiha prodigy for sixteen long years that Kisame can identify the tension in his partner's shoulders and cadence of his speech. Itachi is worried, for whatever reasons, and the concept of Itachi worried is enough to disturb Kisame's peace of mind. He suspects that it may just be for his girlfriend's safety, but at the same time, some ancient instinct tells him that it might be darker and more complicated than that.

The town that they are passing through is small and nearly deserted; save for drunks and vagabonds that slump in front of the boarded-up buildings, on the dusty streets. Kisame has never seen quite so many utterly drunk people in one place before – the scent of strong sake practically pervades the still night air – but he plunges on stoically, even though he can nearly sense the distaste that seems to emanate off Itachi's body in waves.

Night has fallen completely; the narrow street is illuminated only by dilapidated paper lanterns that hang crookedly outside every few doors, so when the small, emaciated man appears out of the shadows, in front of them, Kisame just barely manages to restrain himself from pulling out Samehada, on instinct. Beside him, Itachi tenses, as if preparing for a fight, but then Kisame realizes that this is nothing more than a drunken old fool, unable to even walk straight, and spewing out nonsense. He relaxes fractionally, his hand leaving the hilt of the sword.

The man weaves closer to them, tottering dangerously and, perhaps because of Kisame's physically intimidating appearance, chooses to bypass the former Mist-nin in favor of his comrade. Itachi nearly recoils from him; the sudden odor of alcohol is almost overwhelming. The man's eyes are a peculiar, almost translucent shade of a gray, he realizes, like crushed worms. Itachi moves to swipe him aside, derisively, but the man locks his bony hand around his wrist, and he is momentarily taken aback at the amount of strength within that fragile-looking grip.

He leans close to the Uchiha heir, and his voice is high and reedy, but strangely sibilant, while his eyes roll crazily in his head. "You will lose…everything…" he hisses.

Within the space of time it takes Kisame to blink, unsettled, Itachi's kunai has already embedded itself, hilt-deep, into the man's chest. His eyes are still open, and they stare, unseeingly, into the distant horizon, before he crumples to the ground.

Itachi pulls out the kunai as he goes, wiping it dispassionately on a corner of his cloak. He pushes past Kisame and strides on, leaving the blood of the dead man to soak into the earth, turning it a sickening, unnatural color.

Kisame follows, with one look back; for the rest of the night, Itachi is dangerously silent, but Kisame does not miss the way his hands shake, ever so slightly, when he tends to the fire.

-

The letter that she had found waiting on the covers of her bed had been written in Itachi's elegant script, as usual, naming a location and suggesting that they try a mock exam. Sakura had replied in the affirmative, of course – she got off work two hours early, with Tsunade's permission, in order to train. A slightly ironic smile touches Sakura's lips as she imagines her Hokage's reaction if she knew just _who_ she was training with.

Sakura is early, and she settles herself under a tree to meditate, as is her custom. After a few moments of thought, she can put a name to the emotions swirling within her – this evening is oddly reminiscent, in nearly every way, of the night almost a year ago, when she had challenged Itachi to a fight, hoping that that would succeed in getting him to leave her alone, once and for all. Tonight is just as still and beautiful…and like last year, tonight, Itachi is her enemy and opponent, nothing more. The thought fills her with a strange sense of trepidation; with the exception of a few spars (most of which had culminated in rather satisfying releases of sexual tension, anyway), she has almost forgotten what it had been like, facing Itachi from across enemy lines.

The memories that remain are nothing less than frightening; to say that he had been a dangerous opponent would be the understatement of the century, and later, Sakura had even learned that he had been going easy on her – but still, she had learned from the experience. She frowns, standing up, and stretching once; she can feel the chakra pulsing through her blood, sensitizing her every nerve. Almost casually, she takes a spare kunai from her belt, and with one flick of her wrist, it buries itself into the trunk of a nearby tree.

"I'm ready when you are," Sakura calls, into the seemingly empty forest, and that is when the first kunai nearly impales her heart.

It is a narrow escape, born only of the flexibility that Tsunade had emphasized was necessary to her training, but in the two seconds it takes for her to emerge from the back bend and reverse handspring, Itachi is already in front of her, and his punch causes her to collide, back first, with the nearest tree. One small gasp of pain is all she allows herself, before springing forward.

They are more or less evenly matched at first, only because Itachi refrains from using his doujutsu; the shinobi testing Sakura do not have the advantage of eye-related techniques. Sakura quickly realizes that, despite their equal brutality in hand-to-hand combat, his greater speed gives him a slight advantage over her – a point that is emphasized every time that she lands against a tree, or on the ground. She always manages to drag herself to her feet and retaliate fairly quickly, but that is before the weapons start flying.

These have never been her strong suit, and it is not long before she is gasping for air and bleeding from numerous wounds. The first time she ducks behind a tree for cover, and attempts to heal them herself, she suddenly feels Itachi's palm over hers, quelling the flame of chakra. "Don't," he says, breaking the terse silence of their fight. "During the real thing, you won't have time."

Sakura takes the opportunity to give him a chakra-loaded punch to the jaw. It sends him flying, but he manages to land on his feet, and she can see the brief glint of approval in his crimson eyes, before he unleashes a rain of shuriken on her.

Her adrenaline carries her through the first hour; the second is trying, during the third, she is pushing herself to the limits. At the end of the fourth consecutive hour, she finally falls to her knees. Her head is pounding, her muscles feel as if they're on fire, and Sakura honestly cannot recall another fight that has this sort of effect on her. Her eyes lose focus momentarily, and she realizes, dazed, that the blood steadily spotting the earth below her is her own. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Itachi approach. "Get up," he tells her tonelessly.

Sakura tries to reply, but all that comes out is a harsh, painful cough, and more blood lands on her hands. Then, his hand is around her wrist, pulling her to her feet, and she sways, momentarily dizzy, leaning against a tree for support. Itachi fills her blurred vision, and she blinks as it clears. "That was almost five hours. A…remarkable…beginning." His voice catches every few words, even though he doesn't seem to be as badly injured as she is, although upon this closer inspection, she can see the amount of bruises, scratches, and thin cuts along his face and throat; the slight catch of breath every so often must be due to a broken rib.

"Five hours," Itachi continues, his eyes inspecting her battered body thoughtfully. Then, he moves his hand from her wrist, to settle around her neck, in a chokehold with no pressure. "You will be in the forest for _three days_. If you think that _this_ was difficult," – he strokes her jugular vein with the tip of his fingernail speculatively, and Sakura cannot help but swallow – "then imagine what you just experienced times five. That will be the amount of shinobi that will be testing you."

Sakura closes her eyes, and after a moment, it occurs to her that she cannot remember the last time she felt so completely, utterly defeated. "Can I do it?" she asks, her voice sounding unusually rough; Itachi allows her to lift a hand, and she winces as she feels the mottled bruises around her throat.

"Yes," he says, his eyes clouding over with long-suppressed memories. "However, it is up to you to decide if it is worth it."

Sakura looks at him, as if surprised that he would even ask; Itachi lets her down, keeping a hand on her arm to steady her, but she removes it gently, and manages to smile at him. "It's what I want."

-

It is an excruciating nightly routine that truly acquaints Sakura, for the first time, with the meaning of pain. Itachi dislikes being the one to instruct her in this, but she makes it clear to him, in no uncertain terms, that she will do whatever it takes in order to make herself capable of passing this test.

Every night, for six weeks, they meet in the forest. It is a comparably short time to build up a great deal of endurance, but the first time Sakura battles two Itachis – one real, and one a clone – and manages to hold her own for five long hours, the first thing she does, after regaining consciousness, is fling her arms around him. "It's working," she claims, pulling herself to her feet and settling into a fighting stance. "Come on. There are a few more hours until daylight."

-

Once, during a break in a particularly long and violent spar, Itachi is bandaging Sakura's wounds, while she takes deep, calming breaths in order to restore her chakra. When he is finished, he moves to stand up, but, unusually enough; she reaches out and takes his hand, pulling him back down. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively, and Sakura leans in, brushing a few stray locks of hair behind his ear, so that her fingers inadvertently trail over his face. "What were you?" she asks tentatively.

They only rarely speak about his childhood in Konoha, and even then, the information is offered of his own accord – but this is a journey that she is preparing to make, and one that he has taken already, and part of Sakura longs to know these details. Itachi blinks, and his eyes flicker from crimson to black. "…Falcon," he says at last. "They never used it again, after – it was replaced by the Hawk, a position traditionally given to Captains."

"Neji," Sakura replies absentmindedly, and for a moment, she imagines what life would have been like if Konoha's village elders had never given that fateful order. "Uchiha Itachi, ANBU Captain?" she wonders aloud. "It suits you."

Despite himself, his throat tightens, and nearly closes over. "Dreams of that nature," he says, and even the words sound painful, "died, a long time ago."

-

Three times in a row, they spar all through the night, until the sun begins to rise over the horizon. On the third time, Sakura collapses into Itachi's arms, nearly numb with exhaustion, before pulling herself away, struggling to maintain proper balance. Her eyes are bloodshot, but they glitter with triumph. Sakura's breath comes in harsh, unsteady gasps, thanks to a broken rib; her hair is matted with blood, after he had kicked her into a tree, and her usually flawless skin is marred by countless scratches and small cuts, and, perversely, Itachi thinks that he has never seen her look so beautiful.

He reaches out a hand, to steady her, but Sakura steps out of his path with a smile. Despite the nine hours of battle with him and two clones, she still has the ability to stand tall and proud. "I'm ready," she says, and it is not a question.

-

It is sunrise on the morning of November twenty-sixth, and she is scheduled to be at the gates of Hokage Tower in half an hour, but Sakura is in the middle of a remote forest with Konoha's public enemy number one, kissing him as if she will never see him again. "Promise," she gasps, at last, "that you won't worry."

Itachi frowns at her. "I will not make promises that I cannot keep."

Sakura can't help but smile at him tremulously, and this kiss is so heartbreakingly gentle that when she disappears, in a swirl of cherry blossoms, that he stares at the spot for a minute afterwards, and it takes a great deal of willpower for him to turn around and walk away.

-

During the next three days, Itachi is absent. He is _physically_ there and as efficient as he always has been, Kisame supposes, but emotionally, mentally, psychologically, whatever, he is wishing, with every fiber of his being, that he had not made Sakura that promise to stay clear of Nara Forest.

-

The twenty-ninth is the hardest day of all.

When Sakura appears in the middle of their makeshift campsite, one minute before midnight, Itachi almost kills her on principle. This isn't some sort of attempt at retribution for actually making him worried, but the Sakura that he knew is gone; covered up in black pants and a matching sleeveless shirt, worn under the sleek, silver flak jacket that is regulation for female ANBU members. Her face is concealed by a porcelain mask, delicately crafted into the likeness of a cat. In fact, the only identifying feature remaining is the long, pink hair, until she slides the mask up. "What's wrong?" she teases lightly. "Why, Itachi, did you forget me?"

Their kiss is passionate, and he can taste her exhilaration and the subtle tang of blood on her lips and mouth. As Sakura presses her hand to his face, stroking the skin under his eye with the tip of her thumb, as the rest of her hand tangles in his hair, Itachi thinks momentarily that even her touch feels different, before he realizes it is because of the tight, midnight-colored chakra-enhancing gloves that encase her arms, only leaving the patch of skin with her ANBU tattoo visible. His hands begin to trace their familiar path down her back, before meeting with an unexpected obstacle – a long, thin, all too familiar katana.

Sakura pulls away far too soon, leaving him strangely empty and wanting. "Sorry," she breathes, "but I only have a few minutes before I'm supposed to meet Tsunade-sama and the village officials so that they can draw up the official papers."

Itachi brushes a tendril of hair behind her ear. "Then go," he replies simply.

She kisses him again, fast and hard, before pulling down the mask again and bounding away under the cover of darkness, leaving him standing, alone, in the center of the clearing.

-

The next day, she is assigned her team. It is a predictable lineup, but formidable all the same. "Captain Hyuuga Neji, Aburame Shino, and Haruno Sakura," Tsunade instructs, surveying the three capable shinobi that stand in front of her desk. "ANBU Task Force Number Three." She rises, before walking to a filing cabinet and unearthing a battered manila folder. "As you know, the village elders feel that hunting down the Akatsuki should be made first priority."

The manila folder is thrown down on the desk, and Shino raises an eyebrow as he hears the weighty thud of the paper within. "You three are some of the most capable individuals of your generation," she informs them. "For that reason, you have been assigned Targets 2 and 3 from the organization in question."

By this time in her life, Sakura is well acquainted with the fact that fate is a bitch. When Neji steps forward and opens the file, and she sees two very familiar faces fixing stationary, murderous stares back at her – well, she almost expects it, but still, she is glad for the privacy granted by the mask.

"Uchiha Itachi and Hoshigaki Kisame," Tsunade explains unnecessarily. "You have six months. When you encounter them, you have the choice of either killing them on the spot, or subduing and returning them to Konoha. It is the same two choices that have been offered to Task Force Four, who are in pursuit of Hidan and Kakuzu. However, in light of the increased danger posed by these two individuals, you are authorized to use immediate lethal force, with no obligation to interrogate or extract any information whatsoever. Do you accept this responsibility?"

The three of them bow and murmur their individual assent, and Sakura thinks that a small part of her may just have died on the inside.

-

This has always been a dangerous game, but now the stakes are unimaginably higher. That night, she leaves her apartment and seeks him out; after a quick, breathless greeting, Sakura tells him all that she is allowed to. "Akatsuki has been moved up to priority number one, regardless of how many countries your members are scattered over." She takes a deep breath. "Task Force Four is out for Hidan and Kakuzu, and…"

Sakura stops abruptly, torn over whether to continue, but Itachi saves her by placing one finger, lightly, over her lips. "Don't," he says, quiet yet firm. Once he is sure that she will remain silent, he steps back, and disappears into nothing, as if blown away by the breeze.

She stands there for a few moments, before pulling down the mask, concealing the treacherous tears that threaten to fall.

-

At sunrise, she meets Neji and Shino just outside the village gates. "Ready?" Neji asks her, as he activates his bloodline limit.

Sakura looks toward the rising sun, and it nearly blinds her. "Of course."

-

It takes them two weeks before they come across Itachi and Kisame's elusive trail – a relatively short time, she supposes, thanks to Neji's Byakugan and Shino's tracking insects. She and Shino are sitting under the shelter of a massive cedar tree as he fries a fish that she had caught from the nearby stream, when Neji materializes. "Found them," he says grimly, and Sakura's fingernails bite into her palm, despite the gloves. "They're about ten miles from here." Their captain looks up at the setting sun. "We'll attack at midnight. Is everyone clear on the plan?"

Shino and Sakura nod; they have been rehearsing it, verbally and otherwise, since the outset of their mission.

Neji and Shino meditate in preparation for the conflict, food forgotten; Sakura tries her best to do the same, but her thoughts are anything but restful. It is nearly half an hour before she realizes that she feels clammy and pale, and occasional tremors run through her body. She runs her hands through her hair, desperately willing her body to calm.

Somehow, maybe subconsciously, she had always known that this was coming. She just had not bargained on it being this soon.

The hours drag on agonizingly slowly, and Sakura keeps her eyes fixed on the sun as it disappears beneath the horizon, only to be replaced by the slowly rising moon, until Neji finally opens his eyes. "It's time."

The tension, between them and in general, is palpable – she has been assigned with Neji and Shino on several missions throughout the years, enough for her to call Neji one of her closest friends, and even the typically enigmatic Shino. She would trust them with her life, she knows, and they would do the same for her, but that fact aside, they are about to engage in combat with two of the most lethal missing-nin in history, which is enough to wreak havoc on the nerves of even the most stoic shinobi.

That's without the added tension brought on by her rather…special relationship…with one of said lethal missing-nin.

They come to rest in the towering treetops that surround the campsite, so silent and unobtrusive that not even a leaf stirs; Sakura's stomach lurches when she notices the familiar figure, leaning against a boulder opposite from them. He is sitting cross-legged, cloak pulled around him. The hood is up, so that all she can see is the very end of his ponytail. Kisame is slumped in front of the fire, apparently asleep.

"Perfect," breathes Neji, before gesturing to Shino, who, out of them, has the most impeccable aim. "The Uchiha first. Do the honors?"

Shino remains silent, but a dagger slides down his sleeve, into his waiting palm. Sakura cannot help but swallow when she sees it; it is viciously sharp, and long, the size of her arm from the tips of her fingers to her elbow.

He perfects his aim; a miss could send the dagger thudding into the boulder, which would surely awaken Itachi and Kisame, and make a rather simple objective all the more complicated.

Her fingers are digging into the bark of the tree, and her palms are moist underneath the cover of the gloves. It is the worst kind of traitorous thought, worse, even, than Itachi's own crimes, but she is suddenly praying, to whoever will listen, that it _cannot_ end this way, so quickly and so simply, and—

A droplet of water lands on the branch that Neji and Shino are standing on.

Shino is too intently focused on his target to notice, and Neji has his Byakugan fully engaged, while supporting Shino with a firm hand on his back to prevent him from losing his balance during the throw.

Another droplet of water joins the first, and they pool into one. Despite the relentless pounding of her heart, Sakura looks up, momentarily distracted—_it isn't raining_—

Shino throws the dagger; it makes a sharp, whistling noise as it flies through the air, and Sakura cannot help but gasp when Itachi reaches out, grabbing it in midair and avoiding the blade by a hair's width. He swings it around, and as if from far away, Sakura hears Neji and Shino's exclamations of shock as he straightens slowly.

The hood falls from his face as he stares right up at them, and she can see that he has the Sharingan fully engaged. He spins the dagger by the hilt, almost idly, gaze flickering to all three of them in turn, and lingering for a moment on Sakura. "Why," Itachi hisses softly, narrowing his eyes, and they lean forward in order to catch every word. "Wherever is Kisame?"

Shino manages to turn first, and Sakura watches, with a kind of frozen horror, as the flat of Samehada's blade collides with his head. It is an unlikely strike, and the mighty sword would have separated Shino's head from his body, if not for the fact that Neji had thrown himself, bodily, on Kisame, his fingers locking around the shark-man's neck in a merciless grip.

She does not have time to watch Kisame's reaction, because she is already halfway to the earth, catching Shino's unconscious body as they fall, together. She lands on her feet, and manages to settle her comrade's body under the tree, before tossing off his bloodied mask and bringing chakra to her hands, trying her best to ignore the sounds from up above as Neji and Kisame battle it out—

The steel of the dagger is cold against her throat. "Why, Sakura," Itachi breathes into her ear. "Did you forget me?"

Sakura spins around, and her chakra burns a scalding wound on his hip. He cannot see her face, but her shoulders heave, under the uniform, and it is not surprising, for the strength of her emotions have always been her weakness. "Don't do this," she warns. "Please."

Itachi hardens his heart, and his kunai only misses her arm by a fraction of an inch.

-

They fight their way into the forest, and it is near hell to pretend not to hear Neji and Kisame, still in the clearing, and, in one crazy moment, Sakura imagines that she can still hear Shino's ragged breaths.

She throws a punch at Itachi's jaw. "I don't want this!"

He counters it easily, and kicks her into a tree, driving the breath from her body. For a moment, he is pressed against her, their noses almost touching, and then she can taste the blood in his kiss. "Neither do I."

-

"Surrender," she almost begs, as she watches the blood drip from the shallow stab wound she had inflicted on him. "We'll take you back to Konoha; tell Tsunade what you told me, and I'm sure she'll make some allowances –"

Itachi pulls the kunai out of the offending wound, and throws it back at her. "I don't want allowances."

-

"It's curious," he observes, after a while; they are circling each other, exhausted. "I don't hear Kisame and your friend, anymore."

-

Sakura cuts her losses and _runs,_ as fast as she can, back to the clearing. There is a brief moment of panic when she sees neither Neji nor Kisame, just Shino's still-unconscious, broken body—

Then Kisame nearly falls from the tree, and she experiences a jolt of heart-stopping horror when she sees the way he grips Neji's half-conscious form, before Sakura sees the amount of wounds that the shark-man himself has sustained. He is dripping blood, purple blood, and regardless of her personal feelings for him in a time that now feels long ago, Sakura lunges at him, kunai in hand.

With his last vestiges of strength, Kisame backhands her; it had been a weak blow, for him, but it is enough to send Sakura reeling, and for a moment, everything goes black.

-

When she regains consciousness, a few minutes later, she finds Itachi supporting Kisame's weight. Neji has been forced into a kneeling position. "The Captain," gasps Kisame, coughing blood, "has done his job far too well."

Sakura tries to get up, but her limbs are leaden, as she sees Itachi gently ease his partner onto the ground, before approaching Neji. The long fingers that had stroked her body so gently are ruthless when they bury themselves in Neji's hair, forcing his head upward, so that he can meet his dangerously pinwheeling Sharingan gaze. "Well, then," Itachi nearly purrs. "We will have to teach him a lesson."

-

There are a few moments of silence, before Neji's screams begin to echo around the empty forest.

-

When Sakura comes to, again, it is daylight. She, Shino, and Neji have been moved so that they lie together, tangled, in a heap. Her head throbs mercilessly, but she summons her chakra and begins to probe them, fearing the worst.

After an hour of nearly continuous healing, Sakura is dizzy and nearly starving, but Shino has stabilized; the wound on the side of his head is fully healed, and his chakra stores are replenishing themselves. Neji had been much more difficult, but now, his bones are on the mend, and she had closed the gaping wound in his side with the last of her chakra. The effects of the Tsukiyomi, however, are not so easily fixed.

She is in no state to be doing this, but she uses the few remaining vestiges of chakra to form the requisite hand seals, before flickering out of sight.

-

Sakura finds him on a clifftop, staring out over the surrounding country. She flings the mask off as soon as her feet touch solid ground, and the resulting clatter makes him turn.

It is difficult to walk, at this point, but she storms over to him nevertheless; powered by pure rage and equally crushing sorrow. "You," she hisses, drawing her shaking hand across her pale forehead. "Last night – you _tortured_ my best friend. And you enjoyed it."

Itachi neither accepts nor denies this charge; instead, his eyes catalogue the extensive physical battering she had undergone – most of it, at his hands. "Your best friend," he says, at last, and he cannot control the way his voice catches on the last word, "is the reason my partner may die. Your comrades, Inuzuka Kiba and Rock Lee, are the reason Hidan and Kakuzu's lifeless bodies were found in a deserted clearing two days ago."

Predictably enough, her eyes widen at this information, as if he had struck her; before they just spill over with tears. Sakura is crying for the first time in more years than she can remember, in front of the one person she would _hate_ to cry in front of, right now, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot seem to stop. Itachi nearly recoils in the face of her distress, before reaching out in an attempt to comfort her, tentatively, as if her tears may burn him, but Sakura steps out of his path quickly, turning her face away.

It takes a few moments before she achieves some semblance of control, and she wipes the heels of her hands roughly against her eyes. "Look at us," she gasps. "Your comrades are killing mine, and mine are killing yours, and where does that leave us?"

Itachi says nothing, but he reaches into the inner pockets of his cloak; emerging with one clenched fist as Sakura watches him guardedly. When he stretches the other hand out expectantly, she hesitates for a few brief moments before lightly placing her left hand in his – although she keeps a small flame of chakra alive in her palm, just in case.

Sakura allows him to peel off her glove, and although her expression remains inscrutable, he can feel her hand begin to tremble as he places the ring on her finger. It is the very picture of elegance and good taste – wrought out of the finest silver, with a glistening emerald in the center, and it fits perfectly. "Itachi," she says, her voice cracking on the one syllable; yet, she can't quite pull away. "I can't—"

He opens the palm that is still closed, and all she can see is a small cluster of scarlet fire against his pale, scarred hand, bound by a thin string of silver. "I know it doesn't match," Itachi says, his voice achieving a somewhat rougher timbre, as he gently slides the necklace into her cupped hand. "It belonged to my mother. In another time…" he pauses, looking away, and his next words, when they come, are so soft she can barely hear them. "She would have liked you."

This piece of information, more than any other, reduces Sakura to speechlessness. Her fingers curl around the ruby necklace, and she draws it to her chest wordlessly, as she surveys him.

Itachi takes a step back, so that he is dangerously close to the edge of the precipice. His eyes tear themselves away from her, at last, to focus on a distant point somewhere in the depths of the forest. "Kisame," he murmurs distantly, unaware that he is already, prematurely, using the past tense in reference to his partner, "always enjoyed chicken."

With these last, awkwardly chosen words, he disappears – presumably to a market to obtain chicken, Sakura thinks, dazed.

This may be the second highest on the list of most irrational things she has ever done in her life – the first; becoming involved with Uchiha Itachi in the first place, she thinks – but she walks through the forest, almost blindly, until she finds him. Itachi had placed him under a tree, bandaged all of his wounds to his best ability, and thoroughly covered him with his cloak.

Hoshigaki Kisame, public enemy number two, of her village, is dying.

The weight of her katana is heavy across her shoulders as she stares down at him; almost as heavy as the ring, and the necklace—

_Your duty is to save lives._

It is both the most difficult and the simplest decision of her life, and finally, Sakura lays down the katana, setting it, reverently, behind her, and kneels at Kisame's side. The strain on her body is immense, but before long, the healing chakra wells up within her open palms.

-

When Itachi returns, balancing an immense amount of chicken teriyaki on a large tray, he receives what may be one of the largest shocks of his life when he finds Kisame sitting up, leaning against a tree – sound asleep, yes, but _alive_ and _whole._

He had not expected it in the least, but he knows who to thank.

-

Shino and Sakura make their way to Konoha that same day, after writing the Hokage an urgent report and sending it by way of Shino's animal summons; Neji is still unconscious, suffering the aftereffects of the Tsukiyomi. They link his arms over their shoulders, and carry him all the way home in silence that is heavy with both of their tormented thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Shino blurts at last. "I shouldn't have taken so long to throw the dagger—"

"Don't," Sakura whispers. "It's not your fault."

-

It in the early hours of the morning when they arrive back at their village and check Neji into the hospital. The two of them sit at his side, drifting off periodically, until Tsunade arrives for the morning, three hours later, looking more fretful than Sakura has ever seen her. When they rise to bow to her in greeting, she fairly shoves the both of them back into their chairs with strict orders to ignore formality for the sake of their own health. She sends Shino back to the Aburame compound immediately in order to rest and appease his parents' worries.

"Sakura," she says, taking a moment from her inspection of Neji, in order to survey her former apprentice, who looks alarmingly close to some sort of physical or emotional breakdown, "you've done more than enough – your report mentioned at least ten more major injuries, which you've already healed. There's nothing more you can do here. It would be best for you to just go home and relax."

The concern in Tsunade's eyes is so painfully obvious that for a brief moment, it makes Sakura want to cry. It is an emotion that has periodically been attacking her since her encounter with Itachi on the cliff, and she almost comes clean, almost sobs out the whole painful, traitorous story to her Hokage, but then she is standing up on unsteady feet, nodding her assent and bidding Tsunade a subdued farewell.

Within the space of a few moments, she is at home, in the comfort of her familiar bedroom, and Sakura's throat closes over as she approaches the mirror; without the mask, she is pale, and still looks much the worse for wear after her battle with Itachi and Kisame – livid bruises mark her skin, but she can deal with them tomorrow, and her eyes are red and swollen. The twelve small rubies and the single emerald offer the only color to the reflection that she sees in the mirror.

Sakura strips off her ANBU uniform methodically, and falls into bed. Unconsciousness claims her immediately, but her dreams are all of Itachi, and she wakes the next morning with tears spilling down her cheeks.

-

"Neji," Tsunade says, as she shuffles the papers that are on her desk, "will be quite fine, after a few more days of recuperation." She smiles at the still somewhat wan-looking ANBU Cat. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Sakura is not dressed in her ANBU uniform today; instead, she is wearing a standard-regulation set of black pants, a green turtleneck, and the olive flak jacket customary to all Konoha jounin. They are all new and feel somewhat unusual, but she does not think that she feels up to wearing her uniform right now, in light of recent events. She twists her hands together nervously. "Actually, Tsunade-shishou, I wanted to ask you about –" she pauses momentarily "– the chief diplomatic envoy position that just opened a month ago. If you haven't appointed anyone else already, that is."

Tsunade sets down her cup of tea, her brow furrowing slightly. "The spot is still open, Sakura. Are you expressing interest in it?"

Sakura nods tersely. "Yes, Tsunade-shishou. If you didn't have anybody else in mind, that is."

"There are very, very few," the Hokage replies, leaning back and regarding her curiously, "whom I trust more than you with a position of such importance. I would offer this to you in a heartbeat, if it's what you really want – but I must admit, I didn't think that you had any prior interest in becoming so embroiled in intrigue and international affairs, rather than field missions. Especially now that you've become an ANBU operative."

Sakura's gaze falls; she can say nothing to this.

There are a few moments of silence, and when she speaks, Tsunade's voice is unusually soft and gentle. "Sakura," she says. "Does this have anything to do with Uchiha Itachi?"

Her head snaps up, and Sakura does not think she has ever felt so shocked in her life; even if she had any inclination to deny it, she does not think she could, with the vehemence of her reaction. "Tsunade-shishou! I – I…" her voice breaks momentarily. "How did you know?"

Tsunade slides the cup of tea over to the distraught young woman, feeling that she may be in more need of it, now. "Uchiha Mikoto and I were friends, at the Academy. We weren't assigned to the same genin team, but we continued our friendship up until her marriage. Not too long afterwards, I left the village, although I came back, once, to visit her after the birth of her eldest newborn son." She pauses, and her gaze drifts to the place on Sakura's collarbone where the necklace rests, although it is thoroughly covered by the turtleneck. "I cried for two days when I learned of what happened…" Her voice wavers briefly, but after a moment, it returns to its original cadence. "I would recognize her chakra signature anywhere." She nods at the necklace, and then at Sakura's bare left ring finger. "It's lingering there, too – even though you took it off this morning, it was on when you made your report last night."

Nearly overwhelmed, Sakura buries her head in her hands; she feels her heartbeat slow down alarmingly, and then spike again. When she looks up and meets the Godaime's nonjudgmental gaze, she is torn between a thousand apologies and explanations. "The Uchiha Massacre –" she blurts out at last. "He didn't –"

Tsunade lifts a hand, and, despite the physical illusion, she looks much older than her years. "I know," she says wearily. "It came out, while your team was gone, and I was in a council meeting with the elders."

Sakura is shocked to see tears shimmer on the surface of Tsunade's eyes. "Tsunade-shishou, I…"

The Hokage pushes her chair back from the desk, and goes to stand by the large window, surveying her village. She takes a deep, steadying breath. "It's nothing I would ever have condoned," she replies flatly. "It makes me regret leaving."

Sakura watches, almost unable to speak, as Tsunade walks back to her desk, opens a drawer, and withdraws an elaborate certificate, before beginning to initial every indicated blank. "I will miss you, Sakura," she admits softly. "If I were to be completely honest, I would say this is not the path I would have chosen for you. But I know you well enough to be fully sure that, no matter what you do, you will achieve greatness."

Despite her best efforts, a tear drops into Sakura's lap, as her Hokage slides the certificate over to her. "You know the official constituents of the job; there will be a great deal of traveling involved. You may take whoever you wish, but you will return, and report directly to me – and Naruto, later – at the end of every month." She hesitates. "After my time, when Naruto steps in – he will elect a council of new officials. I don't intend to give you false hope, but, perhaps, someday…your children will be able to train as Konoha shinobi."

"I would love that, Tsunade-shishou," Sakura replies, sounding slightly choked.

She rises, and Sakura does as well. "Come back around seven this evening," Tsunade says, trying her best to return to a professional tone. "You will have to be officially sworn in, and I will send the paperwork to the ANBU officials and to the surrounding countries. But now," she smiles, a little of the customary spirit returning to her countenance, "I expect you will want to inform certain individuals of this latest development."

Sakura nods, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, her smile is fully content. "Thank you, Tsunade-shishou."

-

She finds Itachi standing in the center of a meadow, watching the distant figure of Kisame reacquaint himself with his muscles, as he spins his massive sword through a set of practice patterns.

To an untrained gaze, he would look as unsurprised as always to see her stumble out of thin air to materialize in front of him, tightly gripping an official-looking certificate bearing the seal of the Godaime Hokage, but Sakura can see the way his eyes widen a fraction of inch. She forestalls a greeting, and plunges on – "Chief official diplomat of the Village Hidden in the Leaves," Sakura informs him breathlessly. "I'm going to be sworn in later this evening."

Itachi's eyes drift to the hand holding the certificate, and he has to admit to some pleasure at seeing that the ring is still in place. "In that case, I believe congratulations are in order." He regards her typical jounin clothing, and raises one eyebrow.

Sakura reaches out, and takes his hand somewhat shyly. His fingers curl around hers, as the breeze stirs the grass. "Maybe," she says, her eyes seeking his, "it wasn't what I wanted, after all."

Itachi says nothing, but for the first time in what feels like an eternity, his smile reaches his eyes.

-

_Epilogue_

_Sixteen Years Later_

-

Even from the other end of the clearing, Uchiha Isaru's kunai thuds, dead center, into the target. A small smile struggles with his shy features, before finally breaking free and lighting up his face. Almost unconsciously, his hand goes up to his new forehead protector; touching it lightly, as if to reassure himself that it is, indeed, real.

From inside the compound, Sakura pauses momentarily in her survey of the latest peace treaty between Sound and Konoha. "He'll be surprised that you've come home early just to congratulate him, you know," she says mildly, before getting up and joining her husband, who leans against the window, watching their son with a smile of approval hovering around the edges of his face, as the Sharingan fades from his eyes, leaving them as black as night.

"Yes, well," Itachi replies. "It doesn't happen every day." Another kunai finds its mark in the center of the target, and he inclines his head briefly and turns to look at her, sounding momentarily uncertain. "I just never thought – "

He trails off, and Sakura stands on the tips of her toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Neither did I," she echoes softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Neither did I."

-

_fin_

-

And, one week to the publish date, exactly, there you have it. The end. :) Thank you so much to the people who have been kind enough to review! It really does make my day.

Anyway, I really hope you guys liked the last chapter, and any feedback would be very much appreciated.


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